It was as though Margot hugged some secret to herself which was too precious to tell even to me.
I was amazed how easily she could throw off her troubles and behave as though they had never existed. I was glad she had had the good sense not to bring Mimi with her. Mimi might well have refused to come as she was now soon to be married and with Bessell to command her she could well have been truculent. The new maid Louise was middle-aged and glad to step into Mimi’s shoes. At the same time Margot had dismissed the conduct of Bessell and Mimi as though it were of no consequence. I wished that I could think so.
We had a busy week, mostly shopping, and once more I was caught up in the excitement of the city. I would watch from my window at two o’clock each day when the wealthy set out in their carriages to keep their dinner appointments. It was indeed a sight, for the ladies’ headdresses were becoming so outrageous as to be almost comical. Some would mince along balancing these confections on their heads which would represent anything from a bird of paradise to a ship in full sail. These were the people who aped the nobility-which was a dangerous thing to do these days. In the Comte’s household and others of its kind dinner was at six which gave time to go to the playhouse or the opera by nine o’clock which was the time when the city took on a different character.
We visited a private playhouse on one occasion to see a very special performance of Beaumarchais’ Le Manage de Figaro, a play which the Comte said should never have been shown at this time as it was full of sly references to the decadent society which were a delight to those who wished to destroy it.
He was thoughtful and moody as we returned to the hotel.
He had a great deal on his mind and was often away on court matters.
It touched me that, in view of all that was happening, he found time to plan for my safety, although, of course, I did not believe his daughter’s marriage had been arranged for that reason.
Robert de Grasseville with his parents and a few of their servants arrived in Paris.
In her excitement Margot looked so beautiful that I could almost believe she really was in love. Even though her emotions might be superficial, they were all-important to her while she felt them.
The marriage took place in the chapel which was situated at the top of the house. One left behind the luxury of the apartments, ascended a spiral staircase and stepped into an entirely different atmosphere.
It was cold there. The floor was of flagged stone and there were six pews placed before an altar on which was a beautifully-embroidered cloth and above it a statue of the Madonna studded with glittering stones.
The ceremony was soon over and Margot and Robert came out of the chapel together looking radiant.
Immediately afterwards we sat at table. The Comte at the head, his new son-in-law on his right hand and Margot on his left. I sat next to Robert’s father, Henri de Grasseville.
It was clear that the two families were delighted with the match.
Henri de Grasseville whispered to me that the young pair were undoubtedly in love and how gratifying it was to him that this should be so.
“Frequently in families like ours marriages have to be arranged,” he said. It so often happens that the partners are unsuitable. Of course they often grow together. They are so young when they marry they have much to learn and they learn from each other.
This is happy from the start. “
I agreed with him that the young couple were happy, but I could not help wondering what he would have felt if he had known of Margot’s experience, and I fervently hoped that all would go well, but I did feel uneasy remembering the demands of those two servants whom she had trusted.
It will be well to leave Paris soon,” went on Henri de Grasseville.
“We are peaceful at Grasseville. There has been no sign of trouble.”
I warmed to him. There could not have been a man less like the Comte.
There was something innocent about him. He looked as though he believed the best of everyone. I glanced along the table at the Comte’s rather saturnine face. He looked like a man who had gone through life trying all manner of adventures and had come through with his idealism tarnished if not broken. I felt a smile curve my lips and at that moment he looked at me, caught me watching him and there was a look of quizzical enquiry in his eyes.
When the meal was over, we all gathered in the salon and the Comte said he thought it would be wise to lose no time in leaving for Grasseville.
“One can never be sure from one moment to another when the trouble will begin,” he said.
“It only needs some small pretext to set it off.”
Oh, Charles Auguste,” laughed Henri de Grasseville, ‘surely you exaggerate.”
The Comte lifted his shoulders. He was determined to have his way.
He came to me and whispered: “I must see you alone before you leave.
Go to the library. I will join you there. “
Henri de Grasseville was consulting the clock which hung on the wall.
“If we are to go today,” he said, ‘we should leave in an hour. Will that suit everyone? “
“It will,” said the Comte, speaking for us all.
I went at once to the library. In a short time he was with me.
“My dearest Minelle,” he said, ‘you wonder why I send you away so soon.”
“I understand that we must go.”
“Poor Henri! He has little notion of the situation. He remains in the country and thinks that because the lambs still bleat and the cows moo as they ever did, nothing is changed. I hope to God he can go on thinking it.”
“His is a comfortable philosophy.”
“I see you are in the mood for discussion and you are going to say he is a happy man. He goes on believing that everything is good. God watches over us, and the people are kindly innocents. One day he will have a rough awakening. But, you will say, at least he was happy before it came. I should like to take you up on that but there is little time left to us. Minelle, you have never said you loved me.”
“I do not speak lightly of such emotions as you do, having made love to so many women. I dare say you have told people many times that you loved them when all you felt was a passing fancy.”
“So when you do tell me I may be completely and utterly sure?”
I nodded.
He drew me to him and said: “Oh my God, Minelle, how I long for that day. When … Minelle?”
“There is so much I must understand.”
“So you don’t really love me as I am.”
“I have to know what you are before I can love you.”
“Tell me this. You like my company. I know that. You do not find me repulsive. You like me near you. You sparkle when you look at me, Minelle. You always did. That was why I knew.”
“I have lived such a different life from yours. I have to adjust myself to new standards and I don’t know whether I can.”
“Minelle, can you hear the warning bells? The tocsins are sounding.
All through my life I have heard what happened to this city on the eve of St. Bartholomew’s Day. That was two hundred years ago . two hundred and seventeen to be exact. There were some who felt that coming. It was in the air for weeks before it broke into fearful slaughter. That is how it is now . but before what is to ‘come, the Bartholomew will be considered insignificant. Those bells are saying: Live fully now . for tomorrow you may not be able to live at all. Why do you deny me . when any night might be my last? “
I was afraid. I found myself clinging to him. Then I thought: This is a trick to make me yield. And that showed me clearly the nature of my feelings for him.
I did love him, I supposed, if loving meant wanting to be with someone, to talk to him, to feel his arms about me, to learn how to love and be everything to him. Yes, that was true. But I could not trust him. My mind, in its moments of clarity, told me that Ursule had died too fortuitously. I knew that he was adept at making love and I was a novice. I had everything to learn and surely he, in his vast experience, had learned everything . including how to deceive.